


Clean Getaway

by hollycomb



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk and Chekov get turned into kids on a mission and Sulu has to look after them until help arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Getaway

Sulu can't take many more missions like this. It's just him and Chekov with Kirk on a planet that is emitting a strange magnetic pull that the Federation has deemed worth investigating, and Sulu really should grow up but he's getting tired of the way Kirk shamelessly flirts with Chekov. Sulu knows Kirk flirts with everyone everywhere all the time -- he even tries with Sulu if he's had enough to drink -- but when it's just the three of them Kirk's efforts seem so diabolically focused on Chekov, and Chekov's cheerful obliviousness starts to feel like participation, and Sulu is just really fucking sick of this planet and its alarmingly aqua-blue sky.  
  
"I mean so I'm telling the guy," Kirk says as the three of them head through the planet's thick jungle toward their rendezvous point. "I'm telling him: dude, trust me, I've birthed calves before and this is _not_ normal, okay?"   
  
Sulu is so tired of Kirk's inane stories, and he's even tired of alien jungles, which used to make his heart pound with excitement. When he has to listen to Kirk's deformed farm animal anecdotes as he's taking in the local fauna, his enthusiasm for botany is dampened to the point that every leaf he passes looks the goddamn same.  
  
Chekov is laughing already; he thinks Kirk's stories are hilarious and looks almost hurt if Sulu dares to complain about them afterward. Sulu sighs and slips into daydreams as Kirk goes on to give Chekov the gory details. Soon they'll be back on the ship, Kirk will stumble off to do whatever it is he does when he's off duty, and Sulu and Chekov will be blissfully alone in Sulu's room, Chekov in boxer shorts and one of Sulu's t-shirts, his hair wet after a long shower, grinning and saying _Hikaru_ when Sulu gripes about all the long hours spent with Kirk. Sulu can't wait to be clean and warm and alone with Chekov, hands clasped and noses touching and Kirk so very far away.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Kirk says, stopping so suddenly that Sulu crashes into his back. "This -- did we get turned around?"  
  
"No, _Keptin_ ," Chekov says, sounding a little offended by the accusation. "This is the way we came -- I --"  
  
"But this definitely wasn't here before," Sulu says, staring over their shoulders at the sparkling, pinkish water that has filled the canyon that they walked through on their way to the seeming origin of the magnetic field. They walk toward it cautiously, Sulu with his hand at the small of Chekov's back, because he's definitely got a bad feeling about this. It hasn't even rained since they've been on this planet, and the water is essentially a lake, stretching for miles through the rocky, forested peaks that surround the valley. Kirk tries his communicator and curses when it still won't work; they haven't gotten far enough from the magnetic disturbance yet, and it's been jamming all of their equipment.  
  
"Any theories, boys?" Kirk asks as they all stand staring blankly at the pink lake, the small ripples on its surface twinkling under the planet's late afternoon sun.   
  
"It could have come from the planet's core," Chekov says.   
  
"Maybe there's a flood every day at this time," Sulu says. "It might drain out again if we wait." He hates the idea that this could take until the next morning. There's no way to get back to their rendezvous point except crossing the valley that's now flooded, and they can't communicate with the ship to request assistance. If the water doesn't drain out, Federation policy is 48 hours with no communications on a non-emergency mission before extraction teams are sent. Great.  
  
"Well, I guess we can at least gather some data on this stuff," Kirk says. He walks down to the edge of the water, where it's sloshing against what has now become the lake shore. After just a half foot of shore there's a steep drop-off, a cliff they scaled on the way here, before it was underwater. Kirk and Sulu put on their gloves and collect samples of the water with their kits while Chekov sits Indian-style on the ground and stares down at his maps, which are hand-drawn, because the PADDs aren't functioning. The equipment malfunction was expected and Chekov spent several days before the mission lovingly crafting the maps, bent over his desk at a painful-looking angle while Sulu read coordinates to him from the bed. Sulu thinks of the way Chekov's little tongue had poked from between his lips as he worked and feels bad, because he'll blame himself for this inconvenience even though his maps were perfect.   
  
The earthquake hits like a thunderbolt, so fast that for a moment Sulu thinks he just heard a loud noise and fell over, but the quake continues with such intensity that he feels like he's inside a salt shaker, the whole world flipping and crumbling to bits around him, tree trunks snapping and rocks crashing into the lake. It stops just as quickly as it started, and as soon as Sulu can even halfway get his bearings he whirls around to make sure that Chekov is alright. Kirk is vomiting near the shore line, but Chekov is nowhere to be found, one of his maps lying on the ground by the lake.  
  
"Pav -- Pavel?" Sulu says, a sharp wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to stand up straight, his body still shaking though the quake has stopped. "Kirk -- Jim -- Pavel --"  
  
"He's -- where --" Kirk looks around, trying to regain his balance and walking sideways like a drunk.  
  
"Oh, God," Sulu says, his throat closing up as he whirls around in circles, seeing no sign of Chekov. "Kirk -- Captain --"  
  
"The water!" Kirk shouts, the horror of this realization seeming to settle in his shaken mind at the same moment that it arrives in Sulu's. Kirk turns on his heel and dives in head first without taking another breath, just as he dove off of the drill over Vulcan when Sulu fell. Sulu runs to the edge, his breath coming harshly, heart pounding. Chekov is a strong swimmer, but he might have hit his head and lost consciousness before tumbling into the water. Sulu kneels down and peers into the water, watching Kirk dive down deeper and deeper, as if he saw something, as if he's on Chekov's trail. Sulu's fingers close around the edge of the cliff, dirt and little bits of rock biting in under his fingernails. He looks across the surface of the lake and sees nothing, then looks back down at Kirk. The water is relatively clear, but Kirk is swimming down so deeply that he's beginning to disappear. He must have seen Chekov sinking, he must be close to reaching him. Sulu is moaning under his breath, his fists closing more tightly around the edge of the cliff, which begins to crumble between his fingers. If he loses Chekov, his Pavel, his baby -- oh, God, but no, Kirk will bring him back, he'll save him just like he saved Sulu, he has to.  
  
Kirk disappears into the deep, and for ten seconds that pass like years, Sulu's heartbeat is the only sound in the world, the ripple of the water that swallowed Chekov and Kirk down winking in the sunlight like a series of hard, sharp slaps to his face.   
  
He hears his own laugh as if it's coming from elsewhere when he sees Kirk reappear, kicking toward the surface, just a blond speck in the deep, but he's not alone, he's holding Chekov against his chest. It seems to take Kirk roughly fifteen years to finally get close to the surface, and when he does, Sulu's face falls like a crash of angry hands against piano keys. This isn't Kirk. That isn't Chekov.   
  
The little blond boy breaks the surface and huffs out a frantic breath, spitting water toward the sky. The other boy, the one he's holding, is limp in his grip. Sulu just stares, frozen, dirt under every fingernail.  
  
"Hikaru!" the blond boy shouts, glaring at him. "What are you – take him!"  
  
Sulu reaches into the water and pulls the limp boy into his arms, his heart pounding. He'll just help these kids out – they must have fallen into the lake during the earthquake, too – and then he'll dive down, find Chekov somehow, Kirk, too, oh, God, they've got to be okay.   
  
He places the limp boy on the shore while the other boy heaves himself out of the water with a groan. Sulu is going to turn for the water when something stops him, a stab of frightened pain that jerks through his chest when he looks down at the unconscious little boy, who seems to be around five or six years old. There's something – his face –  
  
"Fuck – what – oh," the other boy says. He's shaking, looking down at his hands and then up at Sulu, hyperventilating. He's a few years older than the unconscious boy, who might be his brother, their hair a similar shade of dark blond, though the boy who's lying limp on the ground has curls. Curls –  
  
"Help him!" the older boy shrieks, his voice broken with panic, and Sulu nods, though all he can think about is Chekov, and Kirk, and how they're running out of time down there. Still, they would both want him to help a little boy before them, so Sulu bends down to give the child CPR.  
  
He has a weird sense of deja-vu when he closes his mouth around the boy's, but considering all the other fucked up stuff that's happened in the span of the last ten minutes it doesn't really concern him very much. He breathes into the boy and then thumps on his chest, his eyes burning at the thought that his friends are sinking deeper and deeper into the lake, long gone.  
  
"Oh, God, oh, God," the older boy chants as Sulu tries to get the younger one breathing again. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck is happening?"  
  
Sulu is definitely not capable of answering that question, but when the younger boy chokes up a mouth full of water he laughs with relief that fills him with pure light, as if this is a sign, as if everything will be okay now. Sulu turns the boy onto his side so that he can get all the water out, and the boy starts to tremble and whine. The older boy is clapping Sulu on the back, sighing with relief, muttering curses.   
  
"It's okay," Sulu says, pushing the younger boy's wet curls from his forehead. "You're okay." He turns to look at the lake, which is already going still, the evidence of the earthquake disappearing.   
  
"Hikaru," the younger boy cries. He turns onto his back again and sobs, stretching his arms out as if wants Sulu to hold him. Sulu opens his mouth to ask how the hell this kid knows his name, wondering why the boy's friend hasn't swooped in to comfort him, thinking about how he has to get to Chekov, how he'll swim to the bottom of the lake and comb through the grit down there with his fingers if he has to, but suddenly comforting the shaking, crying little boy who is reaching for him seems like the only thing in the world that matters, and an apologetic moan breaks out of Sulu as he reaches down and pulls the boy into his arms.   
  
"It's okay," he says, whispering. The boy clings to Sulu with every ounce of strength left in his little body, his wet face buried against Sulu's neck as he cries. Sulu's heart is pounding, his mind flipping over on itself in desperate confusion, but holding the boy against his chest makes him feel better, hopeful, almost calm. He rubs the boy's back and turns to his older friend, frowning, waiting for an explanation.   
  
"Hikaru," the older boy says. He scoffs and shakes his head. "Dude. This is majorly fucked up."  
  
That's when Sulu notices that both boys are wearing perfect miniature replicas of Starfleet uniforms. Yellow shirts. Black pants. The older boy raises an eyebrow as if he can see the realization dawning on Sulu's face.  
  
"I pulled Pavel up, it was Pavel, twenty years old, heavy, but when you lifted him out of the water it was this – kid." The older boy – oh, fuck, _Kirk_ – shakes his head. "And then I got out and – shit. Look at me."  
  
Kirk's voice is a child's, high-pitched and shaking with fear, and his mannerisms suit his small body, his skinny shoulders hunched and his blue eyes shining with a nervousness Sulu has never seen on his Captain's face. Sulu closes his arms more tightly around little Pavel – Sulu can't even think of him as Chekov, not when he's like this. Pavel sniffles against Sulu's neck, wrapping his short legs around Sulu's sides.  
  
"Hikaru," Pavel cries, the Russian accent, much thicker than usual, finally registering now that Sulu's panic has dimmed, confusion surging in its place. "You saved me."  
  
"What!" Kirk shouts, the volume of his squeaky voice taking Sulu off guard. "I saved you, Pavel! Me!"  
  
"Okay," Sulu says. "Okay. Um –"  
  
"Hikaru, what is happening?" Pavel pulls back to look at Sulu, his eyes full of tears. Those eyes, it's him, it's really him, he's alive, he's okay, sort of. Sulu shushes him and kisses his cheeks, then stops, feeling guilty, Pavel's skin inhumanly soft. Pavel lets out a long breath and tucks his head under Sulu's chin, moaning.   
  
"I don't know," Sulu says, turning to look at Jim. "You – you – did you feel anything? When you were down there?"  
  
"Feel anything?" Jim stands up and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I felt water, Hikaru. And my lungs feeling like they were going to – like – like – burst! That's all. I didn't, like, feel myself turning into a midget."  
  
"What will we do?" Pavel asks, still crying, a trembling mess in Sulu's arms. Sulu has seen Pavel coolly face down death at least five times that he can think of off the top of his head, and Jim seems different, too, panicked and more melodramatic than usual. They both seem to have all of their memories, but it's not just their bodies that have changed. Sulu needs to get them somewhere safe so he can start making notes, writing down any observations that might help McCoy fix this once Sulu gets them back to the ship. Because there's got to be a way to fix this.   
  
"C'mon," Sulu says, standing, still holding Pavel, who wraps his arms around Sulu's neck. "We need to get away from here, in case there's another earthquake. We should find a clearing where we can set up a camp."   
  
"But what if this lake drains like you said it would?" Jim looks like he's ready to throw a tantrum, his feet planted.   
  
"It's not safe here," Sulu says. Maybe he's speaking a little condescendingly, and maybe he's enjoying it, Pavel sniffling and clinging and Jim so fucking small. "We need to find a place without so many trees around, remember that clearing a few miles back?"   
  
"Miles?" Jim whines. "No, no. We'll stay here and this lake will evaporate, then we can walk down across the valley—"   
  
"Walk, Jim? It took us half a day to scale that valley, and look at Pavel. He's not going to be climbing any cliff walls anytime soon."   
  
Jim pouts for a moment, his fists curling at his sides. Sulu chews his tongue to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter; it's not funny, of course it's not, but, God, Jim looks pretty fucking hilarious in that little uniform with the three stripes on his sleeves.   
  
"Hey!" Jim shouts when Sulu turns to head for the clearing. "Stop! I'm the Captain and you have to do what I say!"   
  
Sulu loses it then, laughing pretty hard. Jim's face turns red, and Pavel presses a little giggle against Sulu's throat, which makes Sulu's heart grow about ten thousand sizes. He's still Pavel, still in there somewhere.   
  
"Well, I am!" Jim shouts. "Hikaru! Stop! No fair! Where are you going?"   
  
"I told you where I'm going. C'mon, Jim, you know you're a little compromised right now. Just trust me."   
  
"No! Wait!" Jim follows anyway, huffing a little under his breath. The sun is starting to go down, the air getting colder, and Pavel is shivering in Sulu's arms. Jim must be cold, too. Sulu will build a fire for them, keep them safe until they can be returned to normal. He likes this, he's got to admit, being the biggest, towering over Jim and cradling Pavel.   
  
"Hikaru, you are so dead," Jim says, out of breath as he tries to keep up with Sulu's longer strides, his pack now almost as big as he is. Pavel is dozing on Sulu's shoulder, spit bubbles popping between his fat little lips.   
  
"I'm dead, huh?" Sulu says, feeling like the cool older brother that he always wished he was. He has three older sisters and they used to laugh at his model starships and drag him out of the bathroom with his pants still around his ankles if he was taking too long.   
  
"Yeah, totally dead," Jim says. "'Cause as soon as we're back on the ship, guess what?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"I'm the Captain again, because I totally have my real mind, and, and I'm going to send you to the brig and maybe even reassign you to another ship."   
  
"You wouldn't do that," Sulu says.   
  
"Huh! Yeah, I would!"   
  
"Well, Pavel's not going to like it, me getting sent away."   
  
"Whatever. So? I don't care what Pavel thinks."   
  
"That's not very nice to say. Pavel is your friend."   
  
"Well, maybe I think he could get a better boyfriend than you anyway."   
  
Sulu turns back to give Jim a look, and Jim goes stiff with fear for just a moment, then glowers at him.   
  
"I don't care," Jim says, blushing.   
  
"Don't care about what?" Sulu asks.   
  
"Just – nothing." Jim stomps ahead as if he knows where he's going. He's holding a long, brittle reed that he picked a few yards back, and he beats at the tall grass with it as they move from the jungle into the plains. Pavel moans sleepily against Sulu's neck, his little hands flexing on Sulu's shoulders.   
  
"Hikaru," he mumbles, drooling.   
  
"Shhh." Sulu rubs his back. "We're almost there."   
  
Sulu's arms are aching by the time they reach the dead center of the clearing, the farthest they can get from any trees. He has an odd feeling that the planet won't shake again, as if it only tremored so that it could swallow Chekov up, but it can't hurt to make a secure camp, far from that evil fucking lake. He sets Pavel down gently when they reach the place where he'll make the camp, kissing Pavel's forehead when he moans in sleepy confusion.   
  
"Jim, can you watch him while I get firewood?" Sulu asks.   
  
"Fine," Jim says. He's still beating the shit out of the grass with that reed, and Sulu walks over to rip it out of his hands. Jim glowers at him and grabs for the reed, trying to get it back, but Sulu holds it high over Jim's head.   
  
"Quit fooling around," Sulu says sharply. "Watch Pavel. There's some jerky in my pack, and a canteen. Both of you should have something to eat and drink. I'll be right over there getting wood."   
  
Jim smirks, then laughs under his breath. "Getting wood," he says.   
  
"Smart ass," Sulu says, tapping Jim's head with the reed before he turns for the edge of the clearing. He looks back, the sun almost completely gone now and anxiety about this impossible situation beginning to flood into him. Jim is walking over to Pavel, sitting down beside him. He pulls Pavel against him like an older brother might, and Sulu grins, heading away.   
  
When he comes back with wood and kindling for the fire, Jim and Pavel are both shivering, Jim with both arms around Pavel in an attempt to warm him up, his teeth chattering. Hikaru curses himself; he should have told them to change into dry clothes before he started on the fire. He's never been in charge of children before, and he has to remember that these are two children, not his boyfriend and his Captain, though they are those things, too, or at least they remember being those things. Sulu shakes his head and stops trying to figure it out, knowing he never will. He goes for Kirk and Chekov's packs and finds the extra uniform shirts, underwear, and socks they packed at the bottom of their bags. He doesn't even think about how uselessly big these items will be until he brings them over to Jim and Pavel.  
  
"Okay, guys," he says. "Put these shirts on. They're way too big, but at least they're dry, and that material is graded for, uh, cold-ish planets, it'll keep you warm."  
  
"What about our underwear?" Jim asks, exasperated, and Pavel laughs nervously.   
  
"I'll dry them, just let me get a fire going," Sulu says.   
  
"Um, hello, Hikaru, there's a hydrovac in my bag," Jim says.   
  
"Um, hello, Jim, there's a magnetic field fuh -- messing up all our equipment."   
  
Jim goes for the hydrovac anyway, scowling, but it won't work. Sulu tries not to feel smug about this. He should be nicer to Jim, he supposes. He is just a kid, for now.   
  
"Here." Sulu takes the hydrovac from Jim and hands him an emergency blanket. "Use that to dry off. Go help Pavel," he adds, nodding to Pavel, who is struggling with the fastener on his trousers, whining a little under his breath.  
  
By the time Sulu gets the fire going they've changed into their shirts and pulled on their spare socks as well, which fit them like loose leg warmers. Sulu dries Pavel's curls by rubbing them vigorously with a blanket while Jim threads their miniaturized underwear onto a stick and holds them over the fire to dry.   
  
"Don't burn them!" Pavel says, sounding worried, and Jim laughs.  
  
"Underwear rooooasting over an open fiiirre!" he sings, and Pavel laughs hysterically. Sulu snorts and goes to his pack to eat some jerky before setting up the tent. It's a small emergency tent that would have been miserable to share between all three of them, but with Pavel and Jim pocket-sized now it won't be too cramped. Sulu catches himself feeling almost cozy as he sits eating jerky and staring at the fire, Pavel snuggled in his lap, wiping his nose with the flopping sleeves of his ridiculously over-sized shirt. Sulu sighs and hopes he isn't being too optimistic in his belief that McCoy or Spock or someone on the ship will know how to restore Kirk and Chekov to their bodies, making this an amusing anecdote for their friends and nothing more, not a tragedy that will cost Sulu the love of his life and the _Enterprise_ her captain. He tells himself not to think about it; there's nothing he can do now but keep them safe until the extraction team arrives.  
  
"Hey, Hikaru, do you have your phaser still?" Jim asks as they're setting up the tent, Sulu doing most of the work, Jim picking up various components just so he can use them like swords, poking Pavel's shoulder until he whines in complaint and Sulu has to intervene.  
  
"Yes, I have my phaser," Sulu says. "Quit bothering him."  
  
"I'm not bothering him!"  
  
"Yes, you are!" Pavel cries, pushing Jim away when he hovers.  
  
"Well, me and Pavel lost our phasers when we were in that water," Jim says. "When I _saved you_ ," Jim says, speaking snottily and directly into Pavel's ear, as if he's not being appreciated. Pavel just scowls and pushes him away again.   
  
"We should be fine with one phaser," Sulu says.  
  
"Yeah, right." Jim scoffs. "If we only have one, I should have it, because I'm a better shot than you."  
  
"Jim," Sulu says, panting with exhaustion. Putting together these emergency tents is not easy without any real help. "Shut up."  
  
Both boys go silent behind him, and Sulu turns back to see them staring at him as if they feel betrayed, or terrified, or something that makes Sulu feel really fucking guilty. He winces.  
  
"Sorry," he says. "Just -- just be quiet so I can put this tent up. Aren't you two tired?"  
  
"No," they say in unison, and Sulu groans, getting back to work.  
  
When the tent is finally up Sulu drags their packs inside and spreads out the blankets, which Pavel curls up on instantly, while Jim is more interested in rifling through Sulu's pack.   
  
"Stop," Sulu says, taking his specimen collection kit out of Jim's hands.   
  
"Why do you like plants so much?" Jim asks, watching Hikaru pack the kit away again.   
  
"I don't know," Sulu says tightly. "I just do."  
  
"That's stupid. You know what I like? Cars. Have you ever wrecked a car? I have. I drove one over a cliff once."   
  
"Yeah, right," Sulu mutters. He lies down on the blankets, using his pack as a pillow, and Pavel squirms against him, sighing happily as his head finds Sulu's shoulder. Sulu wraps his arm around Pavel, whose entire body fits there now, which is extremely weird, though not entirely unpleasant, as long as Sulu can believe that it's only very temporary.   
  
"I did, I'm serious!" Jim says, practically shouting, looking hurt by Sulu's doubt. "Ask anybody, ask my mom!"  
  
"I'm not exactly on a first name basis with your mother, but okay, fine, you drove a car over a cliff. Now settle down, you should get some rest."   
  
"No, I shouldn't." Jim is sitting on his knees across from Sulu and Pavel, picking at the toe of his sock. "Hey, Hikaru," he says, as if they're not already in the middle of a conversation.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do, um, do you love Pavel?"  
  
For some reason the question hurts worse than any battle wound Sulu has ever been dealt, and he has to steel himself against tears. Pavel looks up at Sulu's face, waiting to hear the answer.  
  
"Yes," Pavel whispers, as if Sulu needs a hint.  
  
"That's right," Sulu says, trying to make his voice sound normal. "Yes, I do." He's not sure why it should hurt so much to say the truest thing he's ever felt. Maybe because of current circumstances, maybe because he's never said it out loud.   
  
Pavel smiles and settles back into place, his eyes closed against Sulu's chest. Jim just stares at them, still toying with his sock.  
  
"So what will you do if me and Pavel don't get turned back to normal?" Jim asks. He looks frightened, suddenly, and Sulu wonders how old he was when he learned to hide that sort of thing, or if he just stopped being afraid altogether, which is what he would have his crew believe. "What then?"  
  
"Don't worry about that, Jim. McCoy is going to fix both of you. It'll be fine."  
  
"I know it'll be fine," Jim says sharply. "But what if -- what if? What if I hadn't found Pavel in the water?"  
  
"Stop," Sulu says. Pavel clutches at him more tightly, his fingers closing around Sulu's shirt, and Sulu presses his hand over Pavel's curls. "You're scaring him," he says.  
  
"Yeah, but --"  
  
"Jim, it's okay. You were very brave, you saved Pavel, he's fine now, you're both gonna be fine. Come here."  
  
"What for?" Jim asks, his sock halfway pulled off at this point.   
  
"To sleep. Here, you can use my extra shirt for a pillow." Sulu reaches behind him, into his pack, rooting around inside it until he finds his shirt, which he tosses to Jim.   
  
"Thanks," Jim mutters. He looks down at the shirt, not moving.   
  
"I'm going to put the light out now," Sulu says, reaching for his flashlight, a machine that is thankfully simple enough not to be affected by the planet's screwy mechanics.   
  
"No!" Pavel says, reaching for Sulu's hand to stop him from turning off the light.  
  
"Okay, okay --"  
  
"God, Pavel, you're such a baby, afraid of the dark," Jim says, the sudden meanness of his voice taking Sulu right back to grade school.  
  
Pavel hides his face against Sulu's side and mutters _shut up_ in Russian, which makes Sulu grin. He feels lucky for a moment, being able to hear what Pavel sounded like when he was a little boy, though he's praying that he'll hear his adult voice again soon.   
  
"What did he say?" Jim asks, sitting up straighter. "What did he just call me?"  
  
"He didn't call you anything, he asked you not to tease him, to be nice."   
  
Pavel laughs against Sulu's side, a wicked little giggle that makes Sulu smirk. "I did not say that," he says.  
  
"What did he say?" Jim asks, so worked up now that his chest is heaving and his jaw is tight.   
  
"Hey, calm down," Sulu says, trying to make his voice soothing. "It wasn't anything bad, he just told you to be quiet. You shouldn't expect people not to retaliate when you insult them, not even Pavel."  
  
"Yeah, but he should have to do it in a language I understand!" Jim says. Sulu doesn't know why Jim looks so hurt all of a sudden, but then again maybe he does; as a kid the smallest admonishment from an adult or stupidest remark from a classmate would make Sulu's eyes sting.   
  
"Sorry, _Keptin_ ," Pavel says sweetly, lifting his head. Jim huffs.  
  
"That's right," he says. He sits down heavily, Indian-style, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm the Captain. So you guys had just better listen to me."  
  
"Okay, Jim, fine. But don't you want to get some rest? Come lie down over here."   
  
Jim thinks about this for a moment, scowling. Sulu can see that he's starting to get tired, his eyes red at the corners and his shoulders hunched.   
  
"What if some crazy alien monster comes and tries to eat us during the night?" he asks, and Pavel goes stiff against Sulu like he's been struck.   
  
"I'll protect you two, but don't worry," Sulu says. He gives Jim a look, aware of the fact that he's only trying to scare Pavel, though maybe Jim is scared, too, he must be. "Nothing's going to happen. Come lie down and it'll be morning before you know it."  
  
Jim groans as if Sulu is asking him to eat a bucket of Centaurian slugs. He throws Sulu's shirt onto the blanket and pushes it up into pillow-position as he stretches out, sighing and lying on his stomach, hugging the shirt against his cheek. Sulu wishes he could put the light out and actually get some rest, but he has to stay awake and keep watch, so maybe it's for the best, though he is worried that the light's batteries will die and Pavel will freak out. He thinks about how Chekov leaves the light on in his bathroom at night, letting it spill partway into the room, and grins.  
  
"Hey, Hikaru," Jim whispers when they've all been quiet for awhile, Pavel twitching into sleep already.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you awake?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Do you remember that time when I saved _you_?"  
  
"Yes, Jim." Sulu was pretty sure that this was going to come up before all was said and done. "You were totally awesome, thanks."  
  
" _You were totally awesome_ ," Jim says in a caveman voice, mimicking him. "God. You think I'm so stupid."  
  
"I do not," Sulu says, surprised by this accusation, though maybe he earned it. "Jim. C'mon. You're one of my best friends."   
  
"Whatever," Jim mutters, his voice muffled by Sulu's shirt. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. Sulu waits for more, staring up at the roof of the tent and listening to the wind rustling through the grass outside. Cursory exploration revealed no lifeforms larger than butterflies on this planet, but he's still got to keep his guard up; they certainly didn't expect the magical lake of de-aging to spring up in the middle of the valley they crossed, and that earthquake was nothing to sneeze at.  
  
"Hikaru?" Jim says. His voice is smaller now, probably because he's half-asleep.  
  
"What?"  
  
A long pause.  
  
"Why do you love Pavel? The real one, I mean, not that little one."   
  
Sulu is going to argue that he loves this little Pavel, too, the one who is curled up at his side and clinging to him as he sleeps deeply, but he supposes he understands the reason for the distinction.   
  
"I don't know," Sulu says. "He's -- just -- he's a genius, and he's sweet, interesting, laughs at my jokes."  
  
"He laughs at mine, too."  
  
"That's true."  
  
More silence, and Sulu can tell Jim is still awake, though his face is hidden in Sulu's shirt.  
  
"So," Jim finally says. Sulu had a feeling there would be more. "So, what would you do if he couldn't be changed back?"  
  
"Jim, I told you --"  
  
"Yeah, but what if -- I mean, what if he was just gone?"  
  
Sulu's chest aches at the thought, and he closes his hand around Pavel's hip, thinking about what it was like to look into that lake and see nothing, no hope, just the end of everything, the emptiness.  
  
"I would be very, very sad, Jim."  
  
"My dad is dead."   
  
"I -- I know, I'm sorry."  
  
"I never knew him, though. I mean, I did, but that was some other universe, so who cares. Lot of good it does this version of me."   
  
"Well, he did save your life --"  
  
"What would you do if Pavel died?"  
  
"Jim --"   
  
"I mean, would you ever love anybody else?"  
  
"I don't know. I think -- no, I wouldn't. Not the way I love him. Frankly, I don't really want to think about it. Can you blame me?"  
  
Jim says nothing, and Sulu looks over at him. He's up on his elbows, his hair a mess from being rubbed against Sulu's shirt, standing up a little with static. The static cling on this planet is really bad, another effect of the magnetism.   
  
Jim searches Sulu's face, frowning a little. Sulu saw Pavel's resemblance to his older self almost immediately, but Jim looks so different as a child. Sulu hasn't really glimpsed the adult Jim in him until now, with Jim's eyebrows pinched, his mouth set in straight line.   
  
"What's wrong?" Sulu asks. Jim scoffs and hides his face in the shirt again.  
  
Sulu sighs and lets him sulk, about his father or this situation or whatever. He's never seen this side of Jim, though he's always suspected that it exists. Sulu can't imagine having been born on the day his father died, where that life would have led him. Sulu's father died when Sulu was fifteen, and it was horrible, but he wouldn't give back any of what made losing him hurt so much. The first time he ever wanted to fly was when he was about six years old, in the car beside his father, driving through the winding hills of San Francisco with the Hoverbird's top down, Sulu holding his hand out into the wind, feeling it beat back against him as they sped faster and faster and finally pulled off the road and into the sky. It was just he and his father, and Sulu can't remember where they were going, only that the sun was bright and the sky cloudless, the wind cold on his cheeks as they rose higher and higher.   
  
"Too much traffic down there!" Sulu's father shouted over the wind. He was of the generation that grew up with more conservative hover technology, cars that would only get ten feet off the ground before the safety override kicked in. Every time they got some really good air in the Hoverbird Sulu's father would grin like a kid. He was an accountant who hadn't been to space since his honeymoon.  
  
"Dad!" Sulu had shouted that day. "What do you have to do to be a pilot?"  
  
"Study hard." That was his father's answer for everything. They took off over the water, heading across the Bay, and Sulu's heart pounded, thinking about what it would be like to fall.  
  
"Also," his father said, "It helps if you grow wings." He lifted his sunglasses to wink at Sulu. He was a kind man but serious, rarely funny and never whimsical. Sulu will never forget the way he lifted those glasses, trying to be cool, to make him laugh.  
  
Sulu wakes up with a gasp, his heart racing. He wasn't completely asleep, just thinking about his father, starting to slip under. Something's wrong, he can feel it. He sits up a little, listening for approaching danger, his arm still around Pavel's shoulders. There's nothing from outside the tent, no growling predator, no rush of flood waters – the sound that sent him into a half-conscious panic is coming from inside the tent, the soft gasps of a child sobbing. Sulu looks down at Pavel, but he's dead weight, asleep with his mouth hanging open, his eyes dry.   
  
"Kirk – I mean – Jim." Sulu reaches over and puts his hand on Jim's back, which is jerking with sobs. Jim tenses and rolls away, still hiding his face in Sulu's shirt.   
  
"Leave me alone," he cries.  
  
"What – what's wrong? Jim, it's going to be okay, I promise."  
  
"I know," Jim says. He sounds so angry, and it makes Sulu's chest ache, because this was him, as a kid, and even now; he always gets infuriated by his emotions, always wants to kill someone when he's reduced to tears.   
  
"McCoy is going to fix you two right up, you'll be good as new, better, maybe." Sulu is shit at comforting people, and has never even attempted to calm a crying child, never having had reason until now.   
  
"I don't care," Jim says. He curls in on himself, clinging to Sulu's shirt like he can disappear into it.   
  
"Hey. C'mon. Jim." Sulu reaches over to squeeze Jim's shoulder, and Jim goes quiet and still for a moment, then chokes out another sob.   
  
"C'mere," Sulu says, expecting Jim to scoff and shove him away again, but Jim rolls over and crawls to Sulu, dumping himself against Sulu's side and hiding his wet, red face in the crook of Sulu's arm. He clutches at Sulu's chest, and Sulu thinks for a moment that he's made some progress in comforting Jim, but as soon as he slides his arm around Jim's shoulders Jim starts crying harder, trying to hold the noise of it in and shaking in full-body tremors because of it.   
  
"Oh, Jim, God, hey, it's okay –" Sulu brings his hand up to cradle Jim's little blond head, trying not to reveal how incredibly freaked out he is by this.  
  
"I'm not –" Jim sobs out, wincing and pulling Sulu's shirt so tightly into his fist that Sulu is afraid it will tear. "I'm not a baby like Pavel, I'm not crying because I'm scared, I'm not scared."  
  
"Okay, alright—"  
  
"It's just, just—"  
  
Pavel wakes up with a little moan of distress, stirring and then lifting his head, his hand still spread across Sulu's chest. He frowns at the spectacle of Jim's breakdown and then looks up at Sulu for an explanation. Sulu groans inwardly, thinking of the crummy apartment building he lived in during his Academy years, where one barking dog would wake up another.   
  
"What – what is wrong?" Pavel asks, and Sulu can see him struggle to find the right words in English, too close to sleep to know them by heart. Jim whimpers against Sulu's side, going tense enough to make Sulu worry that he'll have an aneurysm. He hasn't even allowed himself to consider the possibility that this de-aging process could have very serious side effects.   
  
"Just – just –" Sulu doesn't know where to start. Pavel's bottom lip is quivering as if he's about to burst into tears himself. "It's okay," Sulu tells Pavel, though he's not sure it is. He looks back to Jim, reaching down to rub Jim's back.  
  
"Guys, it's going to be okay," Sulu says, trying to make his voice light and confident.  
  
"No, it's not," Jim sobs out.  
  
"Pavel," Sulu says sharply, looking at Pavel, whose eyes are wet with panicked confusion. "Tell Jim it's going to be okay. He doesn't believe me, but it's true. You tell him, Pavel, make him feel better."   
  
Pavel sniffles and nods. He reaches across Sulu's chest to pat Jim's arm.   
  
" _Keptin_ ," he whispers, and Sulu has always hated that that word from Chekov's mouth sounds like a pet name, but suddenly it's so appropriate, a relief. "Is okay, please."   
  
"Oh, God," Jim says, sounding no younger than fifty. "God, shit." His tears are winding down a little, more as if he's worn himself out with crying than anything else, but Sulu still takes this as a good sign, and keeps rubbing Jim's back, his other hand on Pavel's shoulder.   
  
"Okay, okay," he says. "You're both so tired." It's what his mother used to say to Sulu and his sisters when they were ravaged by piercing unhappiness. _You're just so tired_. He guides Pavel back down to his chest and pulls Jim closer, holding them both tightly. Pavel sighs and keeps his hand on Jim's arm, his little fingers closing around Jim's skinny wrist. Sulu is so ready for this to be over.  
  
"Everything is going to be fine," Sulu promises. He reaches over to grab the corner of Jim's blanket and pulls it up over him, then does the same with Pavel's. Jim sighs wetly, eyes closed, his hand in a fist over Sulu's heartbeat. Pavel watches Jim from across the rise and fall of Sulu's chest, still looking very concerned.   
  
"Let's just sleep," Sulu says. "It'll all be okay in the morning." Another of his mother's favorite quotes. Sulu always thought it was useless, but now he understands where it came from: exhausted desperation. He'll have to call her when he gets back to the _Enterprise_ , to tell her about all of this.   
  
Jim falls asleep first, dropping into it like a stone; Sulu can feel the change in his weight, the new limpness, his breath finally steadying. Pavel isn't far behind, blinking heavily as if he wants to fight it and exhaling a soft little sigh when he gives in.   
  
Sulu lets out his breath, listening to the sounds of their sleep. Just what the fuck that was, he's not sure. Maybe Jim has been holding back that crying jag since he was a teenager and the emotions released by the de-aging pushed it all to the surface. He turns and kisses Jim's forehead, feeling crazy, and so sorry for him. If Sulu had turned into a child today, too – God. He would have been so obnoxious, such a disaster, all of his old shit combined with the new neuroses he's developed since childhood. He shouldn't have been so hard on Jim.  
  
He falls asleep, fighting it, dragged down as if by an undertow, suffering nightmares about drowning. In his dreams Pavel is sinking, out of reach, and then Jim is pulling at him, yanking him to the surface. Sulu fights his own rescue, though every time he breaks the surface Chekov is there, too, twenty years old and frowning at Sulu as if there's no reason for his relief at seeing him this way again, restored.  
  
Sulu wakes up from a dream about being trapped under an avalanche of boulders after an earthquake, and he can see the brightness of the day through the tent, glowing down onto him. He cries out with relief when he looks to his right and sees Chekov still clutching at him but so much heavier now, twenty years old, lean but sturdy, long legs stretching all the way down along Sulu's, his jaw square and the softness of his baby cheeks nowhere near as prominent as they were when Sulu fell asleep. Sulu turns to Kirk and grins when he finds him returned to normal as well, blond stubble on his cheeks and chin, his body much heavier than Chekov's as he clings to Sulu, his fist still tight over Sulu's heart.   
  
"Pavel," Sulu whispers, turning to him. "Hey. Baby. Wake up."   
  
Chekov blinks once, slowly, and Sulu has to swallow down a sob of gratitude, because this is his Chekov, good as new; Sulu has seen him bat his eyelashes sleepily like this so many times. Chekov tips his head up and meets Sulu's gaze, touching his jaw. He smiles.   
  
"Oh," he says. "It's me again."   
  
"Jesus, Pavel." Sulu's voice is a humiliating shipwreck, broken in every way, but he doesn't care. He kisses Chekov like he did the first time, too hard and reckless and desperate enough to make Chekov push a little laugh into his mouth.   
  
"You kept telling us it would be okay," Chekov says, beaming. "And now you seem so surprised."  
  
"Fuck, Pavel, fuck." Sulu swallows a succession of sobs down, trying to laugh around them. "I thought – in the water – thought you were dead." It feels so good to tell Chekov so now, and Sulu wouldn't survive without Chekov as his confidant, his person who hears everything. Chekov wraps his arms around Sulu, and Sulu wants to curl around him and never let him go, but he stops himself from moving to do it, because Kirk is still lying on his other arm, just beginning to stir.   
  
"Jim," Sulu says, laughing. "Wake up, look. It's all over."  
  
Kirk moans and stares at Sulu with something that doesn't look quite like confusion or understanding, just a kind of momentary surrender. His eyes shift to Chekov and he sucks in his breath, sitting up to rub at his eyes.  
  
"Shit," Kirk mutters, and Sulu thinks of his breakdown, but it doesn't matter, doesn't count; Chekov cried way more than Kirk did, and he seems fine now, laughing in Sulu's ear.  
  
"Feel okay?" Sulu asks Kirk, who looks down at him in a way that makes Sulu worry that he's going to be sent to the brig for disrespecting mini-Kirk after all, but then he breaks into his familiar smirk.  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Kirk says. "I feel fucking great. Bigger than you again," he says, pressing his knuckles against Sulu's temple in a fake punch.   
  
"Yeah, well." Sulu sits up, his arm snaking around Chekov's waist, and God he's not going to let Chekov leave his bed for days, needs to relearn the solid shape of him, his weight. "It was a nice reprieve. Even though you two annoyed the shit out of me."  
  
"I did not annoy the shit out of you!" Chekov protests, tipping his head onto Sulu's shoulder.  
  
"It's true," Sulu says. He kisses Chekov's forehead about fifty times. "You were just so sweet, so little, God, it was weird."  
  
"I say we go back to the valley and see if it's still flooded," Kirk says, standing, his back bent against the low ceiling of the tent. Kirk and Chekov are both still pants-less, but that doesn't seem to have dampened Kirk's determination to leave the tent. In the dim morning light, Sulu lets himself search Kirk's eyes, to see if they're red, puffy, still wrecked. Kirk looks fine, smiling easily and stepping out of the tent.  
  
Sulu turns to Pavel, giving him a goofy smile and a sigh, a kiss on the nose.  
  
"Do you remember all of it?" Sulu asks. "The way it was – the way it felt?"  
  
" _Da_." Pavel grins, then bites his lip. "Hikaru, you were so _big_. Like a mountain."   
  
Sulu growls and kisses him hard, appreciating Chekov's throaty moans, the deep hunger that vibrates against Sulu's lips when Chekov tips his head back under Sulu's kiss, surrendering.  
  
"Guys!" Kirk shouts from outside the tent. "C'mon, we gotta get a move on!"  
  
They pack up their camp and stumble away from the clearing, back toward the valley, Chekov with a blanket wrapped around his waist for modesty and Kirk behaving as if he hasn't even noticed that he's not wearing pants. Sulu casts a look back at the clearing, feeling sad about leaving the charred remains of their fire behind. He's walking on air with unfiltered relief, the ease of this solution making him fear that he's dreaming, but there's an underbelly to what happened, too, a fleeting singularity, a sadness that ensures him it's all real.  
  
*  
  
Things return to normal, the experience transforming into a series of beloved anecdotes, crew members cooing and laughing at Sulu's stories about weepy little Pavel and smart-assed Jim. Chekov feels bigger than he did before, and Sulu rains praise on him just for being alive, for the size of his hands and the strength of his long legs when they wrap around Sulu's back. They have conversations about the theoretical construction of the lake that made Chekov and Kirk young again and the reason that the effects wore off by morning, excited and sometimes ridiculous discussions that last into early morning. Sulu is complete again, his legs tangled through Chekov's every time he sleeps, the smooth musculature of Chekov's arms enough to make him believe that the world is mostly good.  
  
There are nightmares, of course. Starfleet practically gave them a course on nightmares at the Academy, hints of the things they would see and never forget. Sulu dreams that Chekov is shrinking, that he eventually disappears, a dust-sized speck that Sulu loses and can't move for fear of stepping on. The water haunts him, too, a flood that crashes against them and takes Chekov away. Sulu wakes up sweating and reaches for Chekov, and he's always there, intact, full-sized, ready to stroke Sulu's hair and whisper that it's okay, as if Sulu is a little boy who needs comforting.   
  
There's another dream, worse than the others, so awful that when Sulu wakes from it he doesn't reach for Chekov, just lies still and pants up at the ceiling, staying quiet, inconsolable. There are no floodwaters in this dream, no alien spells that effortlessly shift his reality. There's only Kirk, leaning close in a world that is otherwise a vacuum, just black. All Sulu knows is that Kirk is close, all around him, and all he hears are Kirk's words, the same speech every time.  
  
"I saved him for you," Kirk says. He sounds desperate and pitiful at first, and then the anger creeps in. "I did it because you wanted me to. There was this moment, this fraction of a second, when the pressure of the water was screaming in my ears -- Hikaru, there was a moment when I hesitated, when I could have stopped kicking, started floating back to the top, let him go, let him die, maybe a tenth of a second. Just after the first instant when I knew I could finally reach him, I thought about what it would be like to watch him sink to the bottom while I rose to the top."   
  
In the dream Sulu is petrified, motionless, but he's always willing to listen, never trying to get away.  
  
"I knew it wouldn't make any difference," Kirk says just before Sulu wakes up. His sadness bleeds into Sulu's chest like a poison. "I knew even before I asked you in the tent. It wouldn't matter either way. So I reached out and grabbed him and I brought him back, for you."  
  
Sulu knows there isn't a shred of truth in this, that Kirk would die for anyone on his crew without a second thought, but the dream still scares the shit out of him every time he wakes from it, and it makes him feel uneasy until he passes Kirk in the hall or sees him on the bridge, returning Kirk's easy smile, remembering reality. What happened on unclassified planet No. 782 was only an anecdote, an anomaly, something they were all lucky to escape without permanent damage. Nothing lasting took place there, Kirk and Chekov restored to their adult bodies without a single mark.  
  
Sulu wonders if he's the only one who still dreams about it, and asks Chekov eventually. No, Chekov says, no dreams. The experience was almost enjoyable for him, an opportunity to curl into Sulu's arms.   
  
Sulu doesn't ask Kirk about his dreams. They talk about flight paths, theoretical physics, Spock's never-changing haircut.   
  
On his annual medical evaluation, Sulu checks "no" for recurring nightmares, and his pen hovers over the form after he's made the mark, until the nurse asks him if he's alright. He looks up at her and tries to smile, doesn't know what to say.


End file.
